


Blood and Feathers

by TiredEagleOfManwe



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Begging, Blood and Injury, Brotherly Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death In Dream, Crying, Dreams and Nightmares, Fever Dreams, Forgiveness, Gen, Grimdark, Hurt/Comfort, Justice, M/M, Madness, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, No Incest, No Sex, Non-Sexual Intimacy, One Shot, Submission, Tears, Trippy, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredEagleOfManwe/pseuds/TiredEagleOfManwe
Summary: After confronting/fighting with Sanguinius in the Fortress of Hera the Night Haunter dreams of returning and seeking his brother's forgiveness. But wanting something and deserving something are two very different things and in Curze's twisted mind two apposing scenarios play out with equally possible outcomes.
Relationships: Konrad Curze/Sanguinius (WH40k)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Blood and Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I threw together during some free time.
> 
> Inspired (in part) by this beautiful and heartbreaking piece of fanart:
> 
> https://your7hearts.tumblr.com/post/184443284081

* * *

It isn't a true vision this time, merely a hideously vivid dream brought about by his suppressed desire to seek atonement –

_no, no, Father will never forgive me, I am what I am, they all hate me; I will die a madman in a black fortress on a dead world, a betrayer, a murderer, a sinner, cursed, damned, an angel of darkness, the night haunter, fear incarnate..._

– but Curze sinks into it, falling into both overlapping versions without hesitation. Driven by need and hunger alike he greedily feeds on the scraps of affection flung his way by his own poisoned mind like a famished beast that has been reduced to gnawing on its own arm for sustenance.

 _Brother? Sanguinius?_ The numinous Blood Angels primarch is seated on his graven throne; he is emperor now - not even Horus has achieved such a feat. Shuddering, Curze prostrates himself before the resplendent demigod. _Brother, I have come to you_...

The Night Haunter crawls forwards on hands and knees, clad in black rags like those he had worn during his early years on Nostramo and stinking like an open carnal pit. Drying blood covers him, so much blood, tainting his vision - the Great Angel is before him, so beautiful and noble, armored all in gold: a true paragon-son of their Father. _Brother, forgive me...I'm sorry..._

The angelic primarch stands, his bright blue eyes filled with concern and pity -

_no, his brother's eyes are the livid red of freshly-shed blood, blazing with an unholy crimson rage -_

Sanguinius strides towards him, his outstretched hands grasping Curze's shoulders, raising him to his feet -

 _no, the Archangel of Baal falls upon him with teeth bared, fists clenched, seeking vengeance for his son, Azkaellon. The Night Haunter does not resist the attack._ I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Do what you will; only just forgive me...

 _Brother._ Sanguinius embraces Curze, hugging him firmly to his chest; the Night Haunter's hearts tighten as he dares to hope-

 _no,_ _the Angel slams him violently to the floor, snapping his spine, his vampiric fangs piercing the filthy skin of his neck..._ Brother? Brother? Forgive me. I'm... _  
_

Sanguinius sits back upon the throne, cradling Curze in his arms, rocking him gently -

_no, he straddles his brother and gluts himself on the primarch's blood, every bit a monster as the Night Haunter, every bit as flawed and broken -  
_

_Rest, Konrad. Be at peace._ The winged son's warm hands are stroking Curze's tangled hair, brushing it back from his cadaverous face -

 _no, only blows raining down upon him as golden gauntlets splinter his bones, blood pouring from his violated throat..._ I'm sorry, I'm sorry; yes, I deserve this... 

Vast wings envelop Curze, hiding him from a hateful war-torn galaxy. Sanguinius leans down and kisses his pallid brow, his lips feather-soft and chaste. _Stay with me, Curze. I will restore you to greatness; I will heal you -_

 _no, the Angel seizes him and hurls him across the throneroom; he smashes heavily against the closed doors, stunned and disorientated._ Brother? _The Angel advances upon him full of fury, his blazing sword drawn._ I am not your brother, traitor; not anymore... _  
_

Curze clutches Sanguinius' pauldrons, resting his head against the Angel's ornate breastplate. His brother's hearts beat calmly and steadily. A single tear courses down the Night Haunter's grimy cheek; it is the first time he's ever wept. Sanguinius continues to rock him; shaking, Curze dares to brush his fingers over one of the Angel's pure gray-white pinions -

_Brother...do you forgive me?_

_Sanguinius points the tip of his blade at the rogue primarch's primary heart. Curze stares up at him, tears spilling involuntarily down his face. The Angel-emperor towers over him, the very embodiment of righteous wrath incarnate, his great wings flared to their fullest extent like an enraged bird of prey. The Night Haunter holds up a pale trembling hand -_

Brother...please forgive me...

_Yes. I forgive you, Konrad._

At Sanguinius' words Curze goes limp in his his brother's arms and starts to weep openly, shaking with relief and shock. Yearning he reaches out to touch the Angel's flawless face, one dirty nail coming to rest upon a black tear tattooed beneath his brother's left eye, a permanent symbol of the primarch's pain at Horus' betrayal. Sangunius covers his hand with his own and presses it against his cheek, closing his grief-filled eyes. Gathering his fortitude Curze raises himself and embraces his brother as best he can. He says nothing. There is nothing left for him to say -

No. You are unworthy of forgiveness, Curze; just as you are equally unworthy of your life.

 _The Night Haunter sags against the doors, Sanguinius' sword mere inches from extinguishing his life. Considering all that he's done it is a merciful death, one he does not deserve._ Kill me then, brother. I'd rather die by your hand then at the hand of Father's assassin. _Curze rips the rags open to expose his narrow chest_. _His broken bleeding body has become a temple to pain, his mind an alter upon which sanity has been sacrificed._ Slay me - do it! _The Baalite steel is buried deep in his heart. Darkness closes its jaws about him, drawing him down into its fathomless depths -_

Konrad Curze is forgiven and his merciful brother cradles him gently in his arms as he weeps unashamedly -

_The Night Haunter remains unforgiven as his brother executes him with a single savage thrust of his sword -_

* * *

In the stygian night of his subterranean hideaway the Night Haunter awakens from his dream and there is no-one to witness the tears of remorse that spill from his obsidian eyes and trace tracks of purest white down his filthy blood-grimed face. Then the screams rip from his throat until it finally fills with blood and he bashes his head against the cavern walls until he bleeds and he wraps his arms tightly about himself as the memory of the brotherly embrace withers and dies - 

_yes, I am damned-I am damned-I am damned; we are all damned - oh Father, why did You create me the damned one, why did You create_ him _the adored one, an angel of light and an angel of darkness, both doomed to die - why? why? All is fire and ash; all is blood and death and war, war, war -_

The screams echo and reecho but none can hear them; there was never anyone there to hear him - he is alone always and forever and there is nothing to do but spread terror and spill blood in the blackness while enduring the long wait for an ending long foreseen.

It wasn't a true vision anyway, just a hideously vivid dream brought about by his suppressed desire to seek atonement –

_Mighty wings curling about him - comforting arms holding him close - blood flowing from his ravaged throat - red eyes burning with hate - a black tear - the light-wreathed sword piercing -  
_

Forgive me -

_Kill me -_

Konrad Curze screams and screams and there is no-one to hear him, no-one there to hold him or forgive him or end him. The darkness cradles him close, silent and soothing; the shadows wrapping themselves about him like a cloak torn from a starless firmament. Within their undulating depths the tortured cries finally morph into a bitter laughter more terrifying than any scream. Lightning claws scythe the air as the Night Haunter stalks forth, on the hunt once more, his ragged voice hissing pained words into the gathered gloom.

 _“I will come for you..._.”

The mad primarch makes this promise to his brothers, to his Father, to an entire burning galaxy utterly bereft of hope or mercy. He is smiling now through a mouthful of sharpened rotting teeth - an expression far more horrifying then his screams or his laughter.

 _“Yes, I will come for you all...”_


End file.
